


Water under the bridge

by UnZafiroEspumoso



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fix-It, M/M, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, POV Greg, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Post-The Final Problem, Sherlock is a good brother, Slow Burn, brief mention of eating disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-23 11:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13786941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnZafiroEspumoso/pseuds/UnZafiroEspumoso
Summary: A year after a particularly messy break up and DI Gregory Lestrade has moved on. However, after the events at Sherrinford Greg finds himself back in the life of his old lover, at first out of a promise made to his brother and then for reasons he isn’t quite sure of. Has Greg actually moved on, or is he in fact still in love with the British Government? Can they get back together or is there simply too much water under the bridge?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!  
> So I haven't written in a while but today I randomly had this idea come into my head and I couldn't get it out of my mind. So instead I thought why not run with it! Don't forget to leave a kudos or a comment if you to like it so that I know you're enjoying it, they give me mtoivation! Enjoy!

_Miserable_ Lestrade thought. That’s what it was. The whole thing was a big ball of abject misery. The weather was miserable, it was chucking it down outside. The only sound in the office was the dull thud of water striking almost threateningly against the window panes. The coffee, if that’s what you could call it, was miserable. It was more like brown sludge in the bottom of a dismal polystyrene cup than the actual beverage it was supposed to resemble. The paper work was miserable, his hand was aching from the amount of times he had to write his signature which by now had turned into a scribble that barely resembled his actual one. But these things were trivial compared to the way that his night had ended a little more than 2 hours ago with him leaving Musgrave with a pounding headache and desire to just pack his back and take out an early retirement, _it’s not like I haven’t earnt it_ he thought ironically to himself. 

_____ _

____He was just starting to enjoy his mental tirade against the whole sorry state of affairs when a knock at his door startled him from his thoughts. He looked up from his paperwork to see the stern face of Sgt Sally Donovan staring down at him from the doorway._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Can I help you Sgt?” Greg ventured which earnt him a rather large scowl from his subordinate._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Boss, I think it’s about time you headed home.” She said in a tone that brokered no argument. The scowl remained in place, but looking closely you could see the deep lines of worry that were etched onto her face._ _ _ _

_____ _

____Greg glanced down at his clock and then back up at Donovan’s unimpressed face, it was nearly midnight._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“I didn’t realise how late it had gotten, don’t worry Donovan I’ll head home in a few minutes” Greg replied, internally cringing at how bad his lie sounded even to his own ears._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Really?” Sally shot back, looking ever more unimpressed._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Of course, as soon as I’ve finished signing these” Greg ventured, and he held up a few of the last remaining sheets that needed his signature to emphasise his point._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“I’ve worked with you for God knows how many years now Sir, do you really think I can’t tell when you’re giving me bullshit?”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“I’m not…” Greg started to say but was interrupted._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Let’s cut the crap, I know why you don’t want to go home Sir”._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“You know, you shouldn’t talk like that to a superior officer.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Last I checked we’re both out of hours, and quite frankly I don’t care, Greg. It’s that freak again isn’t it, you’re hiding yourself in here because of what he said to you.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Don’t call him that” Greg countered but didn’t bother correcting anything else, there was no point in lying again after all._ _ _ _

_____ _

____“Look, it’s not like you owe him anything. Just forgot about what he asked you to do, besides it's got nothing to do with you anyway, you’re not his babysitter!”_ _ _ _

_____ _

____Greg stayed silent as he let his Sergeants words settle in. She was right about the fact that it didn’t have anything to do with him, _not anymore_ his mind unhelpfully pointed out. Truth be told, it hadn’t had anything to do with him in over a year, so why start again now. But she was wrong about the first part, despite everything Greg still owed Sherlock a hell of lot, more than Sally could ever know. It was this that had him promising to look after his brother without a moment’s thought as to the implications.___ _

_____ _

______“There’s a lot more to it than that Sally” Greg replied, standing up with a grimace as he felt his bones click back into place after having been stooped at over his desk for so long, _since when did I get so old_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________“I thought it was pretty simple, after what he did to you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________Greg responded by throwing on his coat and scarf, stoically refusing to rise to her challenge. It was late, and he was tired, far too tired to be thinking too deeply into things like this. He made a move to leave, but Sally stayed where she was effectively blocking the doorway, he raised an eyebrow at her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________“Five minutes ago, you came in here trying to get me to go home, and now I’m actually doing what you want for once and you aren’t letting me. I’m getting mixed signals here Sally.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________“You know that I care about you Greg, I don’t want to see you hurt again. I just want what’s best for you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________“Then you can start by moving out of the way and letting me go home.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________“Promise me that’s where you’re going to go.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________“Where else would I go?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________“Don’t make me say it Greg.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________Greg sighed deeply and looked his Sergeant square in the eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________“Sally, I’m going to go home, to my tiny little flat on Northumberland Street. When I get home, I’ll probably have a few beers out of my pretty sparse fridge to try and forget this nightmare of a day and fall asleep whilst watching Top Gear reruns.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________Sally continued to look at him for a couple more seconds before coming to a judgement and moving out of the way._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

________“Thank you” he supplied, as he closed his office door and made his way to the underground carpark, Sally follow close behind. The building was mostly deserted with many of the workers having left hours ago at a reasonable time. The effect was that the normally hectic NSY building was eerily quiet, as if some sort of magic spell had befallen it. When they got to the carpark Greg bid Sally a quick goodnight not wanting to get drawn into another discussion and made his way over to where his car parked. His car was nothing flash, just a standard black Ford focus, old but reliable – _one of the few reliable things I have left_ he thought to himself grimly. ___ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

__________He was just getting in when he heard Sally call out distantly one last time, “Remember Greg, straight home”. Greg rolled his eyes in response even though she couldn’t see him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

__________“Yes, mother” he shouted back and was rewarded with the slam of a car door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

__________It was still raining heavily as he pulled out of the carpark and into the bleak night. The rain was pelting against the car so fast that the windscreen wipers, despite their valiant effort, struggled to keep it so that Greg could actually see the road ahead. Thankfully, there was hardly any traffic at this time of night and for once he didn’t actually mind driving slowly, it wasn’t like he was in a rush to get to where he was going. Of course, technically he hadn’t lied when he’d told Sally he was going home. He’d just left out the fact that he hadn’t been to this home in over a year._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

__________It was a little over twenty minutes later when he reached his destination on an unassuming street in one of London’s posher districts, definantely not Northumberland Street. Greg looked up at the house from the car still debating if he was actually going in or not. He’d almost turned around several times on his journey here and he was by no means confident that he wouldn’t just drive off without even getting out of the car._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

__________The house, from what he could make out in the dark, was exactly the same as he remembered it, small and unassuming on the outside to fit it in with the local aesthetic. But that was simply a façade so as not to draw attention to itself, inside there lay hidden a beautifully spacious house that was made up of both classical and modern elements. Greg had always loved how the two so seemingly opposite styles had melded together to create a beautiful living space, each style complementing the other, making up for what the other lacked to form something beautiful._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

___________Sort of like the people who lived in it_ Greg’s mind once again unhelpfully supplied. “Damn it” he cursed to himself and hauled himself out of the car. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that, where had that thought come from anyway! The rain had at least started to ease off which meant that he wasn’t instantly drowned the moment he stepped out of the car, _so much for small mercies_ he thought to himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

______________Greg’s skin prickled with a sense of déjà vu as he walked up the path to the front door. No doubt Mycroft already knew he was here. There were cameras hidden all over the house and the street, so it was impossible for him not to know. In fact, Greg was willing to bet that that the minute his car had even turned onto this street Mycroft would have had a flurry of messages alerting him to his presence._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

_______________Well, the fact I’ve not been dragged away kicking and screaming by undercover security must count for something _Greg thought bitterly to himself as he pressed the doorbell. It wasn’t a secret that Mycroft had stringent security, and no one would even be allowed to get near to door if Mycroft didn’t want them to, he knew that from experience. It was that last thought that brought on a sudden rush of emotion which left him reaching out to steady himself against the wall. Memories quickly flashed through his mind, strong arms unceremoniously grabbing him from behind, the feeling of being dragged forcefully backwards, desperate cries which fell on deaf ears. Greg shook his head and gritted his teeth, _it’s been over a year, don’t start up again now you’re supposed to have gotten over it_. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ___

_____ _

__________________Taking a breath, Greg regained his composure and pressed the bell once more. He started to shuffle his feet, partly out of the nerves and partly out of the need to get warm. Although the rain was merely a light drizzle now, a cold chill had started seep into his bones. _Come on Mycroft, open the door even if it is just to stop me from catching my death_. ___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

____________________Finally, after what seemed like an eternity he heard movement coming from behind the door and the sound of a key turning in the lock. Greg felt his heart flutter and his breath catch in his throat as the reality of who he was about to see again finally fully dawned on him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, just a quick note about this chapter. I had originally planned for this chapter and the next one to be together but because of a really dodgy internet connection I decided to split it just so that I can definitely get something uploaded today. Hopefully, internet permitting the second part to this chapter will be up tomorrow.   
> Also, there’s an ever so slight reference to an eating disorder in this chapter, its only a sentence but I just wanted to warn you guys first as it’s something I’ll be mentioning again in future chapters. I’ll be updating the tags as I go along so keep checking them.   
> Enjoy!

“Detective Inspector” a calm voice addressed him from the doorway.

Even though he knew it was coming Greg still startled at the voice, _he sounds exactly the same._

“Mr Holmes…” Greg started, deciding to match him with the formalities but stopped short once he actually got a good look at the man.  Despite knowing how rude he must have looked, Greg couldn’t help but openly gape at him. For one second, he was almost convinced that someone was playing some sort of trick on him. This wasn’t the man he knew. Gone was the pristinely put together man who was to all intents and purposes the British Government. The man who exuded power and commanded respect just by raising an eyebrow. The man who was all sharp edges at work, but the very opposite to all of these things at home. The man to whom Greg had completely and utterly lost his heart to.

Instead, in his place stood an undeniably broken man. Mycroft was stood holding the door open with one hand resting on the handle and the other by his side. Although at first glance this seemed a perfectly normal way to open a door to a visitor, Greg could see that the hand on the handle was gripping it just shy of too tight, and there was minute tremor running through other. Although taller than Greg, in that moment Mycroft looked half the size of the Inspector, as though he had invisible weight pressing down on him causing him to shrink. The foreboding air which Mycroft normally commanded with such ease, an air which made grown men run off in terror, had been replaced by one of absolute resignation and defeat. His suit which he normally took such pride in, a personal armour he had once called it, was rumpled and creased up to the hilt. It was also hanging him off in such a way that it obvious to Greg that the younger man hadn’t been eating properly.

But worst of all was his face. His face which had once captivated Greg with all its hidden beauty was now hollow and gaunt. Mycroft had always had a pale complexion, which had often caused Greg to joke about how he was sure he was secretly dating a vampire. Now Mycroft just looked pasty and as if he might keel over at any minute. There were dark bags under his eyes and several deep creases lining his brow making him look 20 years older than he actually was.

 _Oh God Mycroft what have they done to you?_ Greg thought to himself as he took in the sight of his former partner. He wasn’t sure how long he stood staring for, but during it all Mycroft didn’t utter a single word, clearly waiting for Greg to finish his observations. When Greg finally brought himself to meet Mycroft’s gaze, he couldn’t help the clench in his chest. The normally dazzling blue eyes which he had often found himself drowning in were instead just dull and devoid of any of the mirth that he normally associated with them.

Greg swallowed as he tried to think of what to say, willing his mouth to form words so that Mycroft wouldn’t get too exasperated and simply shut the door on him.

“Mycroft, I… you see… well I just” Greg started which earned him a rather unconvincing look from the man opposite him.

_Calm down Greg, just be honest with him._

Greg took another breath and tried again, “Mycroft I wanted to come and see how you are, I didn’t get a chance to speak to you earlier, so I thought I’d pop over on my way home”. _There, that didn’t sound too bad._

“I assure you I’m fine Detective Inspector” Mycroft replied, though to Greg he sounded the furthest thing from fine.

“Right, well if you need me to help you in any way I’m more than happy too.” Greg ventured, hoping Mycroft would take him up on the offer and invite him in.

“No, thank you Inspector I’m in no need of assistance. If that’s all it is rather late…” Mycroft replied, sounding almost bored.

“Of course, well if you do need me just give me a ring, you know where I am” Greg replied, he knew a dismissal when heard one and he didn’t see the point in drawing this out any longer, especially when it was so obvious Mycroft wanted him gone.  

He didn’t bother with any more attempt at conversation, instead he offered a quick goodbye and made his way back down the steps towards his car. Although the rain had now stopped it was still incredibly cold, and Greg was looking forward to getting back into the warmth of his car.  _Well I tried, at least I can tell Sherlock that. It’s not my fault Mycroft wouldn’t take me up on my offer of help. Besides, he say’s he’s fine and if he does end up needing any help at least he knows he can ask me for it._

He was halfway down the path, still lost in his thoughts when he realised something odd. He hadn’t heard the door shut. Which meant Mycroft must still be watching him from the doorway, but why? If he had truly wanted Greg gone he would have shut the door the minute his back was turned. If he wanted to make sure that Greg actually got in his car and left he needn’t have bothered standing watch, he could easily have asked his security team to confirm his departure. So then why?

 _Oh, come on Lestrade you know why_ , Greg could practically hear Sherlock’s voice berating him in his head. _You might not have seen him for a while, but do you really think he’s changed that much?_ Greg stood still, halfway between the car and the front door where he was sure Mycroft was watching him. He felt a small tendril of panic creep into his heart as Sherlock's voice emanated in his head a final time.

_Mycroft never does or says what he means, especially if he’s upset._

Greg felt like kicking himself for being such a self-absorbed colossal idiot.  Of course, Mycroft would have said he was fine. That’s what he always said. He could have been trapped in burning building or be stuck under an avalanche and he would have still said he was fine.  He would never admit to anything he perceived as a weakness for fear of being exploited, nor would he outwardly except any offers of help for the exact same reason. So, Mycroft saying he didn’t need any help actually didn’t mean anything. Instead Mycroft was still stood there watching him, when he could easily have shut the door and gone back to pretending Lestrade never existed.

 _So that must mean... he doesn’t want me to leave,_ the thought hit Greg light a bolt of lightning and shocked him into action. After being stood like a statue for so long his subsequent spinning round was almost comedically fast. Just as he thought, upon turning around he immediately met Mycroft’s piercing gaze.

At first glance, it looked as though Mycroft’s gaze was icy cold, almost daring Greg to turn back around and leave like he was going to. Greg however wasn’t going to be deterred. He had seen Mycroft’s infamous ice gaze only once before and he knew that this wasn’t it. Carefully, he made his way back up the steps until he was once again standing right in front of his old lover. Mycroft didn’t say anything, but then again, he didn’t have to. Words weren’t how Mycroft communicated in situations like these and Greg knew it.

At this distance Greg could see every detail about the man in front of him. The hand on the door handle was now gripping it as though his life depended on it and the slight shake in the other had become nearly uncontrollable. Mycroft’s whole body seemed to be sagging under its own weight, and Greg was worried that if he didn’t get Mycroft sat down soon he was liable to collapse completely. But most telling of all were his eyes. Greg could see that hidden behind the cold stare there was a whole pool of desperation, of wanting and maybe even a small flicker of hope.

“You’re not fine” Greg said, it was a statement not a question, there was no point in wasting any more time.

“I know you have a thousand and one reasons not to let me in, but please Mycroft do the right thing for once. I know if you really didn’t want me here I wouldn’t be here. You could have stopped me getting down this street, you could have refused to open the door, hell you could have had me dragged kicking and screaming down the path again! But you didn’t, and I know why. So please, let me in so that I can help you.” Greg finished hoping that his little improvised speech didn’t sound as desperate as it did in his head. He wasn’t sure what sort of reaction to expect from Mycroft. Part of him still expected to him to shut the door in his face, another thought he would politely decline the request again. What he didn’t expect was for Mycroft to visibly crumple to pieces in front of him. For one second Greg almost thought about reaching out to grab him and pull him into a hug… almost. Instead he settled for gently touching him on the arm in what he hoped could pass as friendly reassurance.

“Can I come in?” Greg asked gently, scared that saying anything else would be too much for the elder Holmes to handle.

Mycroft inclined his head slightly and moved out of the Inspectors way, allowing him to enter. Greg smiled a thanks, and carefully made his way inside his old home.  


End file.
